Help.

Asking for help has never been easy for me.  It's not that I'm a perfectionist.  It's not that I simply enjoy doing things my way.  It's not really a pride thing either.  It's more that I am such an extreme people-pleaser that I hate the thought of putting someone out.  This past summer while I was the program manager of a camp, I spent countless nights working wee hours into the morning on projects that could have been done by 10:00 if I had simply asked for help.  I don't know what it is.  Some might say stubbornness.  Some might say it's just plain silly.  But for whatever reason, I would rather work myself to the bone than ask someone to do something not-so-pleasant.

Thankfully, we in America tend to value independence, so my avoidance of asking for help seemed normal.  We tell ourselves we can do anything we put our minds to and admire those who do it all on their own.  I could have fit right into this mold and gone through life never having to ask for help.  Maybe I would have struggled along the way, but I would've eventually figured out a way to make it work.

But then I did a stupid thing: I fell in love with this dream of being a teacher in Zambia.

Moving to a third world country for a year to be an unpaid teacher is a definite way to put yourself in the "needs help" category.  Believe me, I tried to do even this on my own.  I currently have 4 part-time jobs in State College to attempt this huge feat of raising $20,000.  I figured that if I worked my tail off for 6 months here, maybe I wouldn't have to ask anyone else for help.  Maybe I could just joyfully share my pictures and stories, but not the burden of actually paying for this experience.

But God blessed me with an unfilled bank-account because I was being selfish.  I tend to get this way with Zambia.  Sometimes it's hard to explain to people who haven't been there.  Sometimes it's easy to become jaded and think the world doesn't care about my friends in Africa who are hungry and cold tonight.  Sometimes it's easier to think I'm alone in this journey and that I have to do it by myself.  But I am seeing every day how very wrong I am.

I am seeing through friends and family that I haven't seen in years who are joyfully giving what little extra money they don't have so that I can follow my dreams.  I am seeing through church members whom I have only known for a short time who come up to me eagerly wanting to know how they can help as I prepare for my ministry.  I am seeing through the local school that I sub at whose staff members constantly ask me what the countdown now is because they're just as excited for my departure as I am.  I am seeing through facebook and this blog as people graciously read my story and respond with heart-felt encouragement and support.

I am overwhelmed by how wrong I've been.  I am humbled.  My eyes have been opened.  Forgive me.

I am learning little by little that this Zambia story is not my own.  Yes, I may be the one going in 15 days, but I am taking you all with me.  I am blessed to live in this age of facebook and Skype and blogging and worldwide travel.  I am blessed to get to share Zambia and Haven of Hope with all of you.  You may never step foot on Africa's rich soil; but you will impact the people who walk upon it.

So here I am, asking you for help.  It's taken long enough and I'm sure many of you have been sitting back wondering exactly how you can help.  I'm sorry I let my stubborn, selfish self get in the way.  I'm sorry I've kept you out of the blessing; out of the journey.  But I'm human, and I'm learning.

What exactly do I need help with?  Well, currently I have raised only $5,000 of the $20,000 I need to support myself for a year over in Zambia.  Most people would see that number and freak out.  But there are two things that I know.  One, God would not plant this dream in my heart, nurture it for seven years, only to let it partially bloom; He will see it to fruition.  He will supply the support I need. Secondly, I do not need all $20,000 in hand when I step on that plane in 2 weeks.  I would love to have half of it, but thankfully I can continue to raise the funds while I'm over in Zambia.

If I didn't believe to my core that my sacrifice of time and comfort, plus your sacrifice of prayers and money would result in lives changed, I would not be asking.  I would tell you to send your money to one of the countless other good causes in this world.  But I do believe that my year in Zambia has the potential to change lives; mine, yours, and hundreds (maybe even thousands) of children and adults in Africa.

To those of you who already received my letter and have sent in donations, THANK YOU.  Truly.  I understand what a sacrifice it is to give any amount of money in today's economy, and I pray that God blesses you for your generosity.

To those of you who would love to give but who are too stretched to even spare a dime, THANK YOU for your desire.  I know that you can (and will) support me in other ways, and I am blessed with that knowledge.

To those of you who have read all this and want in, here are two options.

1) You can give a one-time gift.  You can simply send a check to Haven of Hope at 403 S Allen Street, Suite 112-A, State College, PA 16801.  The checks can be made to Haven of Hope with my name in the memo line.

2) You can become a monthly sponsor for my year in Zambia.  If you would rather spread out your giving over the next 12 months (June 2012-May 2013), you can fill out the two papers I have attached below.  If you click on the links, they will take you to two separate websites with documents for automatic withdrawal.  The first form is for your bank account info and the second is where you would list how much you'd like to give every month.  You can list as little as $5 a month!  You can fill out and send both of these forms (with a voided check) to Haven of Hope at the address above.  

Automatic Withdrawal Form
Monthly Sponsorship Form

I am blessed to have people in my life who want to help, whether I ask for it or not.  Thank you all for following my journey and for giving me grace as I learn what it means to love and be loved.  Thank you for getting excited with me, for praying for me (and Haven of Hope!), for reading my blog, for calling, for texting, for caring.  I am SO excited for this next phase of my life, and I can't wait to share it with you all.

The Wrong Sister.

18 days.  The countdown has now reached 18 days until I leave for Zambia.  And my "to do" list is longer than I can possibly imagine.

If you know me at all, this does not surprise you one bit.

I'm Amy, after all.  The girl who pulled more all-nighters at Taylor than I can even count.  The girl who literally rewrote her salutatorian speech an hour before she had to stand and give it.  The girl who pretty much always wait until her gas light comes on before she finally rolls into a Sheetz to fill up.  I'm messy.  I'm forgetful.  I lose everything.  I break everything.  I'm lazy.  My dad even has a song he lovingly sings to me when I do something characteristically "Amy."  The lyrics are simply I-R-R-E-S-P-O-N-S-I-B-L-E.  I've known all of this about myself for some time now.

But today when I was driving back to State College, thinking about everything I have to do before getting on that plane in 18 days, I broke down in tears and yelled at the top of my lungs, "God...you are CRAZY."  The conversation proceeded in my head as I listed reason after reason why He clearly picked the wrong girl for this job.  I looked back at the past 6 years of my life and saw all the ways I could have spent my time better.

I could have been fluent in Bemba by now.  I could have paid off all my Taylor debt (or at least a much bigger chunk...).  I could have saved all the money I am now desperately trying to raise to support myself for this next year.  I could have done a lot of things.

Martha would have all those things done.

You know...Martha.  As in, Mary and Martha.  The Bible story tends to paint a bad picture of Martha, but I've secretly always wished I could be like her.  Every day I wake up hoping that TODAY will be the day that I get everything crossed off my list.  TODAY will be the day I am suddenly responsible and reliable.  There are lots of beautiful women in my life who are Martha's.  They plan.  They are diligent.  They are loyal.  They are hardworking.  They are reliable.  Just once I would love to be a Martha.

I sat in my car today and I told Jesus that He doesn't want me to go to Zambia; he wants a Martha.  If He's gonna send a single, white, 24-year old girl to Zambia all on her own, AT LEAST make sure she's a Martha.  That seems like a no-brainer to me.

But then God painted a clear picture of me sitting at His feet.  He reminded me that while I'm certainly not perfect, I am Mary.  No, I definitely did not spend the past 6 years of my life preparing for Zambia in a Martha-way.  In fact, I haven't spent the past 6 MONTHS preparing for Zambia in a Martha-way.  But that's okay.  Because I am not Martha; I am Mary.  And while I still have a to-do list a mile long, I am READY to step onto that plane.  Because for the past 6 years, I have been sitting at Jesus' feet.

I have sat at Jesus' feet while He took me from Ireland, to Taylor, to Camp Adventure...three places that taught me what it means to be a family in Christ.

I have sat at Jesus' feet while He gave me glimpses of heaven as I worshipped with my brothers and sisters in the Czech Republic, Zambia, Ireland and the United States.

I have sat at Jesus' feet while He taught me how to still sing those same worship songs after experiencing the worst kind of pain this world has to offer.

I have sat at Jesus' feet, holding my bitterness with clenched fists, while He showed me His scarred hands, feet & back, teaching me again what "seventy times seven" really looks like.

I have sat at Jesus' feet, letting Him remove my heavy burdens of perfectionism and guilt.

I have sat at Jesus' feet, begging for wisdom and guidance as I led a team of 17 young adults through the hardest summer of our lives.

I have sat at Jesus' feet, sometimes in numb silence, barely hearing His voice; holding on to the hope that I would see Him clearly some day soon.

I have sat at Jesus' feet in agony as He slowly began to break my heart for the things that break His.

I have sat.  And I have learned.  And I have come to know my Jesus.

And THAT is why I'm ready to get on that plane.  Because no matter how many times Satan tries to tell me that God is better off sending a Martha, I can go sit down at my Jesus' feet and He will tell me AGAIN why it is that's He's sending me; His precious Mary who knows His heart.